Poison Apple
by NotOneLineFF
Summary: Chloe and Lucifer deal with the aftermath of the reveal, in very different ways. Meanwhile, someone is trying to drive them further apart than ever.
1. Love & Loss

_She was beautiful._

Lucifer surveyed the dance floor from his position at the bar, searching for a flash of blonde hair out of habit. Only the dark haired beauty caught his eye though, despite only having glimpsed her through the throng for a second. The heavy beat of the music pulsed around him, the air thick with desire. On evenings like this he could almost taste it, touch it, as if it were a tangible thing. His vision slowly became hazy and he sighed in relief, the whisky he'd been consuming non stop since returning from work finally beginning to affect him.

Because that's all it was now, work. No drinks to celebrate solving a case, no visits to the Detective's home, barely even the chance to speak to her when they _were _together. Which was rare these days, now that she knew. Over and over his dreams were haunted by her face, the horror there as she saw him for who he truly was. Which is why tonight, like every night, he found himself seeking the kind of blackout oblivion that only drugs and alcohol could provide.

Go home, she'd said. As if this was home. The Detective had become home a long time ago, and he was fairly certain she was lost to him now. True, he was still allowed to attend crime scenes, but he was of more use to Daniel these days than he was to her. It was only recently that he'd realised how little she needed him, and the last few weeks had done nothing but prove that. Outside of work he kept his distance as she'd asked, despite hating every single second he was away from her. Hardly a day went by when he didn't see her, and yet he missed her terribly.

Still, if she insisted on him spending his time in Lux, he felt he should at least _try _to take advantage of what his club had to offer. The crowd parted again in front of him, and he watched as the woman he'd noticed earlier swayed her hips to the beat, lost in the music. Her long dark hair danced around her body, and he wondered what it would feel like against his skin. He could have her, if he wanted. He could have any of them.

But she wasn't _her_. None of the many women he'd taken to his bed lately were. Not even the men had helped. Sighing, he turned and tapped the bar, another drink appearing beside him before his fingers even left the surface. The shipments to Lux had doubled in size lately, and he knew none his employees could figure out why. It wasn't their place to ask though, and he wasn't about to explain. Flying crates filled with the strongest liquor money could buy from the storeroom to the penthouse had been easy. A fine purpose for his wings if ever there was one.

It was nothing compared to the last time he'd used them though. Saving her had been the most important thing he had ever used his wings for, or _would _ever use his wings for. The recovery from that day had taken longer than it should have, thanks to his refusal to fully leave the Detective. He'd taken flight from the loft as soon as he became aware of what had transpired, he had no choice, but he stayed close, unable to bring himself to go without making sure she got the help she needed. He observed from a distance as she was led away from the scene, followed her home to make sure she got there safely, called Linda to let her know her services were required and waited until she arrived. It was only when the agony became too much for him that he finally left her.

And then there was nothing. No calls, no texts. Not from her, only from the doctor. He lay alone in the penthouse for days, carving out the bullets that had already healed into his skin. There were those that would have helped had he called, but the elevator remained locked. He wasn't ready for anyone else to know.

To know what had happened, and to know what he'd done.

It hadn't taken long for the first aftershocks to hit, his true nature not being the only one to be revealed that day of course. Mazikeen was still dealing with the ramifications of that, her requests to visit the spawn denied. The traitorous demon was here even now, working behind the bar, paying a self-imposed penance to the master she'd once considered a friend. He couldn't care less. As far as he was concerned, they were done. For eternity.

The drink in his hand was gone again, a new one in its place. This time, with some pills as a chaser. He gave a nod of thanks to the bartender, before downing them both. It wouldn't take long for them to start working, his metabolism already overwhelmed by the amount of alcohol it was dealing with. This was a nightly routine he had perfected, his usual steps taken to achieve any semblance of intoxication amplified tenfold. He found himself smiling for the first time that day, knowing that soon, for a little while, they would help him forget.

Because he couldn't stand it anymore. Didn't want to remember than she needed time, that she wanted space. He wanted her here with him. So if drinking enough, taking enough, would help him escape from the reasons she wasn't, then that's what he would do.

Anything was better than waiting, than hoping. At first, he'd waited for her call. Then after nearly a month, when the number for the precinct flashed up on his phone, he'd hoped. It wasn't the Detective though. It was never her, not anymore. Apprehensively he'd agreed to help Daniel with an interrogation, knowing she was likely to be at the precinct. When he arrived she'd been at her desk, but as soon as he was within sight she walked away.

He'd felt it like a physical blow.

She didn't ask him to leave though, and he chose to cling to that like a lifeline. So the next day, he went in again. And the day after that, and the day after that. Until eventually, the team were headed out to a crime scene when she looked at him, actually _looked _at him, and said, "You coming?"

The joy he'd felt in that moment was something no drug could ever hope to reproduce. Although now that he'd had a few, these ones were really trying. The lights were brighter, the music louder. When he spun around to face the bar again, the room went with him. He was pleased to find the bottle had now been left there, the staff too busy to keep up with his rate of replenishment. Psychic bartenders; always his favourite kind.

Reaching to pour himself a drink, he frowned as the amber liquid missed the glass entirely. He tried again, with the same result. As he stared at his own hand in confusion, he felt an arm wrap around him from the side. A lithe female body rubbed against his as she manoeuvred her way around him. The woman from the dance floor. Apparently all he needed to do to bring a human to him these days was look at them.

_All except one, that is._

He shook himself, determined to rid himself of thoughts of the Detective for the evening. She wasn't here. The beauty in front of him was. Her hand left his waist, dragging deliciously across his hip. Moving closer, he heard the unmistakable clink of glass upon glass, as he lowered his head to hers. He grinned against her skin, purring into her ear. "You know, they call that stealing, where I'm from."

Breathing her in, he dared to run his lips down her neck to her shoulder, close enough so she could feel him there, but never quite touching. Slowly she turned on the spot, handing him a drink before picking up her own. After tipping her glass towards his, she took a sip, never taking her eyes off him for a second.

"It's not stealing if you're sharing," she replied with a wicked smile.

_His kind of girl._

"Many thieves in Hell are there?"

_Definitely his kind of girl._

He did love it when they joined in with the game, not that it was a game for him of course. The rest of her drink disappeared as she waited for him to answer. Letting his eyes roam over her body, he returned her smile in appreciation. There was something familiar about this woman, something tugging at his normally near perfect memory.

He pushed it aside. The point of tonight was to forget, wasn't it?

"Plenty of thieves, darling," he responded, relieving her of her now empty glass and placing it on the bar behind, leaning over her body and deliberating brushing past it as he drew back again. He tilted his head down, meeting eyes that were filled with just as much fire as his own.

"Tell me, have you ever had something stolen from you? What is it you desire to have more than anything else in this life?" he asked, his power enveloping her as he idly ran his fingers through her hair, before sweeping it back over her shoulder.

Her reply was a whisper, a caress that he seemed to hear in his mind rather than with his ears. "You. I only want you."

He didn't even have to think about it, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd with ease. As soon as they stepped foot inside the elevator he captured her lips with his own. Her scent filled the enclosed space and he luxuriated in it, in that rich, heady aroma, undercut with something that reminded him of hellfire.

They fell into the penthouse, tearing at each other's clothes, and when she pulled out a packet of pills from within her bra, he didn't object. Chloe wasn't here, so nothing could hurt him anyway.

_Except the fact that Chloe wasn't here._

The high he'd been on the verge of losing downstairs returned, and the next few hours passed in a haze of lust and wanting. Because that was all he needed, to be wanted. Every time his eyes began to regain focus, every time he started to remember, she would bring him something to take, to drink. Eventually, the cumulative effect of it all helped him reach a point he'd never quite been able to achieve on his own. And for that, he was grateful.

After he collapsed onto the bed, exhausted but closer to happy than he had been in weeks, she lay naked alongside him, moulding her body perfectly to his. Running a hand up over his chest, she gently cupped his face, turning his head towards her. "Tell me everything," she said, such concern in her voice that he couldn't help but believe that she _cared_.

And so he did.

...

"Have you thought any more about talking to him?"

Chloe lifted her head to look at her friend, for the first time since arriving for her appointment. Her hands, which she had been staring at from the moment she sat down, continued to wring in her lap.

"I can't."

Linda looked at her sympathetically. It was a look Chloe was beginning to hate.

Most of her colleagues had concluded that there had been some kind of falling out between her and Lucifer, and naturally they assumed the blame lay with him. Which led to the shoulder pats, the lemon bars left on her desk, Dan constantly checking to see if she was okay, and Ella hugging her every chance she could. It wasn't right. They didn't _know_.

"Why? Because you're scared of him?"

Her answer was rapid, instinctual. "No!" She shifted on the sofa, trying to think of a way to explain herself. "I've never been scared of him, not really. I'm scared… of what it all means, I guess."

"And what is that?"

Her newly appointed therapist sat in the chair opposite, legs crossed and notepad poised. Chloe sometimes wondered if coming here had been a good idea. On the one hand, it was a relief to talk to someone who could understand. But on the other, Linda didn't know everything, and what she _did _know she often wasn't willing to share. Apparently, for her, ethics applied even in celestial situations.

"Heaven. Hell. God. A Goddess apparently? It's all real. So very, very, real. And yet it still doesn't _feel _real." Finally Chloe unclasped her hands, burying her head in them as she continued talking. "I've never believed, you know? Never thought for a second that it all actually existed. But he told me, day after day after day. Who he was. What he'd done. Where he was from. It was all true. And it's… it's too much to handle."

Linda nodded. "I know. I've been there."

Frustrated, Chloe raised her head sharply, snapping her response. "Yeah, and you got over it in like what, a week? I've barely spoken to him for over two months, Linda!"

The doctor appeared torn for a few seconds. Then she stood and crossed the room, joining her friend on the sofa. Chloe sat up, and Linda took her hands, holding them tightly. "I'm not over it. Not yet. I'm not sure I ever will be, not really. It takes time to-"

"It's not the same for you," Chloe interrupted. "I'm sorry, but it isn't. You're not… he's not…" Tears began to fill her eyes as she thought of what could have been, what should have been. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Letting go of her hands, Linda wrapped both arms around her. "I know. I know. I'm sorry."

Chloe cried until her session was over.

That evening, sleep eluded her. For hours she sat by the fire in her apartment, a glass of wine in one hand and her phone in the other, until the flames died down and the early morning sunrise began to appear over the horizon. She couldn't stop looking at the text message on her screen, the one she'd been trying to draw up the courage to send all night. So many times she'd nearly done it, only to pull her hand away at the last second.

"_It's easier, thinking of him as just my partner again, and nothing more."_

Those were her last words to Linda as she left. She was doing what Lucifer did best; lying to herself. He hadn't been _just _her partner for a very long time now.

"Does he know that though?" Linda had asked. "From what you've told me, it doesn't sound like you _are _partners anymore."

Her assessment wasn't incorrect. When Dan had suggested Lucifer come back to work, she'd agreed out of necessity. They were trying to crack a particularly tough case, and his… abilities were needed. Sometimes it felt like it was the wrong decision. Because he was still _Lucifer_. He looked like Lucifer, dressed like Lucifer, acted like Lucifer. He was the same and yet he wasn't, all at the same time. With him there, it was hard not to let herself fall back into old patterns, into the partnership they'd created together. But she couldn't, not yet. She didn't know how to. So instead, she withdrew further away.

And gradually, their routines altered. She didn't drink the lattes he left on her desk, so after a few days he stopped bringing them. When he greeted her like he always did she didn't answer, so he stopped doing that too. Sometimes she'd slip and smile at him, or laugh at one of his frankly terrible jokes. It was the hope on his face that made her realise what she'd done. False hope, because for her, nothing had really changed. Day by day, bit by bit, she watched as the brightness in his eyes began to die.

"Start slow," Linda had suggested. "It's okay to reach out, even if what you have to say isn't what he wants to hear right now. He'll understand, or at least he'll try to. He'll try for you."

She was right, Chloe knew she was. And yet, something held her back. It had taken her this long to realise what it was. She wasn't ready, and it was hurting him. It was in his eyes, every time he looked at her. She didn't want to hurt him any more than she already had.

Putting down her empty glass, she read the draft of her message yet again. _I'm trying. I just need more time, that's all. _Before she had time to change her mind, she quickly made an addition. _I'm sorry._

She took a deep breath, hovering her finger over the send button once more. It was important he knew that all hope wasn't lost. She needed to do this, for him.

And so she did.


	2. Hope & Acceptance

The next morning, Lucifer awoke to find the space next to him in bed empty and cold. It was to be expected. He had fulfilled her desires, and then she'd left.

_The best night of my life._

How he had come to hate those words. For them, it meant nothing. And worse still, for him it meant nothing now as well. To his shame, he could barely remember what the woman he'd taken to his bed last night looked like, never mind what her name was. Had he even asked? Until recently, he'd known every name and every face of his many lovers, masks aside.

With a heavy heart, he shifted across the bed, reaching over to the nearby table to retrieve his phone. The screen was empty. He thought he'd heard it go off earlier, but he must have been mistaken. Dreaming perhaps.

Rolling onto his back again, he stared at the ceiling. He had barely any memories of the previous evening, but what he hadn't forgotten was the feel of her. Over him, under him, wrapped all around him. It wasn't often he desired a repeat performance with a sexual partner, although he always accommodated those who wanted one with him, but for her he believed he would make an exception. Still, nothing to be done about that now.

After a shower, he began to prepare for another day with the Detective. She'd started speaking to him more recently, even if it was always about whatever case they were working on at the time. He'd decided that perhaps that was the key. The harder he work at being the perfect consultant, the more she would _actually _consult with him. And the more she did that… well, surely that would be a step towards getting her to talk to him about other things.

On occasion it felt like she forgot the distance between them, just for a second. At crime scenes he tried to hold back from interfering too much, but he'd still been very much himself. It would be a lie to be anything but. His antics earned him the occasional admonishing glance, or even better, a coveted eye roll. Those were the things he held on to, the things that kept him coming back, even if she did suddenly become 'busy' as soon as she realised what she'd done.

Right then. Being the perfect consultant must surely begin with looking perfect, something he was more than practiced at achieving. He dressed even more meticulously than normal, not a button out of place, not a wrinkle to be seen. It took longer than usual, but she was worth it.

Once he finally finished taming his annoyingly unruly curls, he checked himself over in the mirror. Perfection indeed. It was possible of course that she wouldn't even notice. But sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her glance at him. There were times her gaze might even linger for a moment. It was another sign that perhaps she wasn't quite so indifferent to him as she appeared.

Before leaving the bathroom, he allowed his eyes to flare, watching as the flames danced back at him. It was a reminder that he would never be quite as perfect on the inside as he was on the outside. There was a monster within him, a fact the Detective was all too aware of now. He remained determined to prove himself to her though, to show her that he was still the man she'd thought he was. Smiling at his reflection as his eyes faded back to their normal brown, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, today would be that day.

It wasn't.

Shortly after arriving at the precinct he spotted the Detective, but he no longer greeted her as exuberantly as he used to. A few too many mornings of seeing her flinch at his words had been more than enough to make him never want to see her react to him that way again. Instead, he simply gave her a nod of acknowledgement when he saw her, but this morning that was met with a glare.

He wracked his brain, trying to come up with anything he might have done to incur her wrath since yesterday. There was nothing though, not that he could think of. Confused, he headed over to what the department dared to call a coffee machine and poured two cups, something that would have been perfectly normal for him not so long ago. Realising his mistake, he decided he may as well offer her the drink anyway. Hopefully it would alleviate some of her anger over whatever mistake he had so obviously made.

It didn't.

The Detective was at her desk talking to Miss Lopez, and he caught the tail end of what she was saying as he approached. "_And he didn't even reply!" _Any other time he would have asked who they were talking about, however he was supposed to be on his best behaviour today, and that didn't seem a very consult-y thing to do.

"Coffee, Detective?" he asked, reaching out to hand her the cup. Her reaction was not what he'd hoped for, her face turning to stone before she marched away from him. Placing the drink on her desk, he lost all faith in the idea that today would be any different. If anything, things seemed to be worse.

He'd forgotten Ella was still standing there. She went to move towards him but stopped, the scalding hot coffee he currently held between them proving to be successful hug prevention. Something he would have to remember in future. Instead, she patted him on the arm. "Don't worry buddy, she'll come around." Glancing in the direction of her friend who was currently taking out her ire on a filing cabinet, she turned back towards Lucifer with a grimace. "Eventually."

He sighed as he looked down at one of his favourite humans, optimistic as ever, before giving her a small smile. "I can only hope you are right, Miss Lopez."

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. The team attended another crime scene, and rather than keeping his distance, this time he actually attempted to be helpful. He joined in the search for evidence, interviewed witnesses, even remembered some forensic information Miss Lopez had told him previously that she had yet to think of.

In the end, it was one of his observations that lead to the case being solved. Unable to resist the thrill of the chase as always, he assisted in the arrest, easily tracking and rendering their quarry unconscious before any of the other officers could get hurt. One officer in particular.

Just as he was about to congratulate the Detective on a job well done, she looked up at him from the floor, having just finished handcuffing their culprit and reading him his rights. "Thanks, Lucifer," she said. "You can go now."

His heart swelled at the merest hint of recognition that he'd been of use to her today. Feeling braver than he had in a while, he decided to push forward with his agenda. "I thought..."

She stood up, passing the soon to be jailbird off to a uni, clearly paying very little attention to what he was saying. "I thought I might accompany you back to the station," he said, swallowing nervously. "To help with the paperwork." In the middle of dusting off her trousers, the Detective paused, examining him with incredulity.

"_You_ want to help with paperwork. You." He nodded, fiddling with his cufflinks. Time seemed to slow as he waited for her response. Finally, she nodded in return. "Okay. I'll meet you there then," she said, before heading over to her vehicle.

Which was probably a good thing, because he couldn't keep the grin off his face. He practically leapt into the corvette, but decided against breaking every speed limit in his excitement. Instead he chose to drive the long way around back to the precinct, thereby ensuring the Detective would be ready for him upon his arrival.

When he entered the station however, it became apparent that was far from the case. He was about to make his way down the stairs when he heard the sound of the Detective admonishing Daniel from below. He ground to a halt, not wanting to be next in the firing line.

"Seriously, Dan, again?!"

"What choice did I have Chlo? The sitter bailed, you won't let Maze watch her anymore for some reason…"

"You know why."

"No, I _really _don't. Yes, she hurt her. But she apologised. And Trixie misses her!"

"I've told you before. I don't want to talk about it."

"Then give me a break, will you? I know you don't like having her here, but I didn't have a choice!"

There was a pause. Lucifer leaned over the balcony, trying to see what was happening. Unfortunately, they must have been directly beneath him, for he couldn't see either of them.

"I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm going through a lot at the moment."

Another pause. He held his breath, waiting to see if the Detective would elaborate. Instead, the next voice he heard was Daniel's, attempting to comfort her.

"Don't worry about it. We'll figure something out. I'll hire another sitter."

"Wait a second, the sitter didn't just cancel, she quit?"

"Yeah. There was something odd about it too. Pretty sure Trixie hasn't been terrorising her lately…?"

"Not since I had a talk with her, no."

The conversation tailed off then. He watched as Daniel headed over to the break room while the Detective walked back to her work station. His elation at the thought of working with her again had him practically bouncing down the stairs towards her. Hell, he'd have slid down the bannister if he wasn't at risk of ruining his suit. As he neared her desk however, he grew unsure as to how to proceed. Was it worth risking his previous way of greeting her? He didn't want to jeopardize the good will he'd garnered today.

The decision was made for him however when he heard a familiar cry of his own.

"LUCIFER!" came a high pitched squeal from the direction of the vending machine that could only be the spawn. Closing his eyes, he braced for the inevitable impact of a small human wrapped around his legs.

Only, it never came.

When he opened his eyes again, his entire body froze at the sight before him. The spawn had indeed rounded the corner, but she was stopped from coming any closer by the hand that had grabbed hers. Her mother's hand. The hand of his detective.

Pain lanced through him, the likes of which he would never have even imagined he could feel over being prevented from contact with her progeny. His mind raced.

She didn't trust him with her child. She'd kept Maze away because she was a demon, but she knew him, she _knew _him and he would never hurt Beatrice, not in a million years. But she thought he would. She didn't trust him.

_She didn't trust him._

He stared for what couldn't have been more than a few seconds before his feet finally got the message and he fled. There was a shout of "Lucifer, wait!" from behind him, but he couldn't stop, couldn't stay, couldn't stand feeling that sort of pain again. As soon he reached a corridor without any officers, he was gone.

Almost every single half decent bar on route received his patronage as he made his way back to Lux. He drained them of their finest, and then of their worst. When he reached his club the doors had not long been open, but the small group of early arrivals had already taken to the dance floor. And among them, was the somewhat blurry silhouette of the woman he'd encountered last night.

His intoxicated mind revelled at the prospect of another evening with this enchanting creature, burying all thoughts of what had happened deep down inside where they belonged.

It was time to hunt, not for a sinner, but for someone to sin _with._

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, moving to the rhythm as he melded his body against hers, his lips drawn irresistibly to the curve of her neck. She leaned back against him, whispering, "Hello lover," before turning in his arms. He was struck again by how familiar she was, but when she kissed him, she chased all thoughts of that from his mind.

He grinned against her mouth, her wickedly clever tongue depositing some of her delightful little pills inside his own. He swallowed them eagerly, not caring what they were. The only important thing was that they kicked in almost immediately, harder than usual even, something he very much approved of. As long as she kept them coming, he was game.

Because the more he consumed, the easier it was to pretend. To pretend that today hadn't happened. To pretend that everything was okay, that _they _were okay. Humans call the Devil a deceiver, but tonight his only wish was to deceive himself.

One night where he could believe that the woman in front of him had blonde hair inside of brown, blue eyes instead of hazel. That Chloe was here, in his arms as held her tightly, kissed her softly. If he closed his eyes it almost seemed real, even down to the way he felt when she was near him, as if his soul had become lighter somehow. He smiled in the special way he reserved only for her, and opened his eyes.

And then she was gone. Instead there was only a woman who wasn't her, who could never be her. A flawless example of humanity yes, but he was no fool. She meant nothing more to him than the alcohol or the drugs; just another distraction from the torture that his life on Earth had become, far worse than anything Hell had to offer.

At the beginning, he'd thought that seeing the Detective every day would ease the pain, but it had only made things harder. For him and for her apparently. The night they kissed, he had allowed himself to believe that _she _believed, just for a moment. That she finally saw him for who he was, but chose to accept him anyway.

He'd been a fool.

To her, he was still the man who spoke in metaphors. She hadn't known the reality of what she was saying, but he'd still trusted in her words nonetheless. It shouldn't have been a surprise that she ran away. The Detective was good, truly good, in a way he would never be.

Of course she didn't want to be with him.

It was a truth he'd finally accepted. He would never have the one he wanted, so he would take the ones who wanted him. Including the woman in his arms.

Everything else faded into the background as their bodies entwined together. There was only sensation; the feel of her skin on his, the curves of her body so perfect under his hands. The time for his set came and went, for there was no need to create music when he could see it swirling in the air around him. She was there to supply him with what he needed, and he would do anything to remain in that state of euphoria he so badly craved.

Once again her body arched into his as they moved to the rhythm, and finally his self-control snapped. One minute they were on the dance floor, and the next they were in the penthouse.

She let her dress fall to the floor the instant they landed, as though clothes were just a burden she was glad to be free of. Her body was breathtaking. With her there he didn't care that he'd just disappeared in a crowd full of people, didn't notice that she didn't seem to care either. In that moment, his desire for her was all consuming.

The rest of the night passed in flashes. The living room, the bedroom, the bathroom. There wasn't a place in the apartment he didn't take her in. Even his closet failed to escape their fervour. When he wasn't inside her, they were drinking, talking, partaking. It was only as dawn approached that she rose from her position on the bed between his legs, intent on leaving again. He'd been lain with his head thrown back, overtaken by mindless pleasure, but as she started to move away he tugged her back towards him.

"Stay. Please."

And so she did.

...

"I hurt him today."

Although she'd entered the office more than ten minutes ago, it had taken Chloe until now to decide how to begin. Linda had sat there patiently, waiting for her to start talking.

"Oh?"

She was still so angry at herself. It hadn't even crossed her mind about how he would perceive her actions.

"Trixie, she tried to run to him. And I, and I…"

"You stopped her," Linda said, finishing her sentence for her.

Chloe nodded. She kept seeing the look on his face, over and over. The devastation in his eyes… she'd caused that.

"In our last session, you said you weren't scared of Lucifer. Has that changed? Do you feel you need to protect your daughter from him?"

She shook her head. "No. Neither of those things."

Getting up from the sofa, she began to pace back and forth across the room.

"I keep thinking. About all the things he's said. All the things he's done. And then, I thought about the way he acts."

Linda remained silent, giving Chloe the space to continue.

"He's always hated it when Trixie touches him. And not just in a 'keep your sticky hands off my suit' kind of way either. I mean, he literally flinches when she hugs him. He's never really like hugs in general, but with her… it's different."

She stopped, focusing her gaze outside of the window.

"And I started to wonder. Maybe it wasn't just that he doesn't like children? That maybe there was more to it?"

"Like what?"

Chloe looked back at her friend. "Shouldn't you already know? You're his thera-"

She stopped herself, closing her eyes as she sighed. "I'm sorry. I know you can't talk about that. It's just frustrating sometimes, not knowing anything for certain."

"It must be."

Chloe stared out of the window again. How Lucifer, who had the attention span of a child at the best of times, put up with therapy she had no idea. Her experience so far had done nothing but drive her crazy. She'd hoped that Linda would treat her like more of a friend than a client, but that hadn't been the case at all.

"It's just, I'm working on my own assumptions here. There's so much I don't know. I thought that maybe because he's the..." she paused, "because he is who he is, perhaps Trixie hugging him was painful for him somehow?" Sitting back on sofa again, she crossed her arms over her stomach. "I shouldn't have done it. I just didn't think."

"You still can't bring yourself to say it, can you?"

She couldn't._ Not to me. _Despite everything, that remained true. Sometimes, she'd look at him and that red creature would be all she could see, but it just… didn't fit. It wasn't him.

Shaking her head slightly, she stayed silent.

"In our last session you said it was easier just to think of him as your partner. Is that because you don't see him as the Devil, or you don't _want _to see him as the Devil?"

"Both. I think?" Chloe paused, trying to find the best way to describe it. "It's like Lucifer and…" She swallowed heavily, forcing herself to say the words this time. "...the Devil, they're two completely separate things. I can't put them together in my mind."

"But they're not separate Chloe. They're one and the same."

"I know that. Logically, I know that. But it's just like the rest of this mess. It doesn't feel _real._"

Linda tapped her pen on the notepad she held a few times, deep in thought. "Do you mind if we try something?" she asked. Chloe looked at her warily before nodding, and Linda put both the pad and the pen on the floor. "Okay. I want you to close your eyes."

Sitting up straight and resting her hands on the sofa, Chloe took a deep breath before following Linda's instructions. She really hoped this wasn't going to turn out to be some kind of hypnosis mumbo jumbo.

"I know we've talked about this, about what happened that day, but I want you to visualise yourself back there. Can you picture what you saw? Can you see his face?"

Chloe shuddered at the memory. It was a face she sometimes saw in her dreams, the ones where she would wake up screaming. She nodded again, but barely.

"Now, try to see Lucifer's face there instead."

Immediately she stiffened. _No. _She didn't want to do that.

"I know it's hard. But you need to see him for who he is. Our work here won't help you if you can't."

She couldn't. She _wouldn't._

"You don't understand," she said, opening her eyes, "He's _not _the Devil. It's _not _who he is. I just don't see him that way. I can't."

"You can, and he is, Chloe. He's as much the Devil, as you and I are human."

Linda sighed.

"Let's try something else."

Reluctantly, Chloe shut her eyes again.

"Don't look at Lucifer this time. Focus on another part of the room."

The irrational part of her still wanted to argue, to insist it couldn't be Lucifer standing there. She chose to ignore it though, searching for something else to concentrate on that wasn't… him.

The feathers? No, that was a mystery she wasn't quite ready to try to solve, even if she did have her suspicions about their origins. The body on the floor? Best not to look at that either. Marcus was another issue they had barely touched on in her sessions.

She decided on the columns to the side, even if they were riddled with bullets that Ella had yet to fully explain.

"You said he spoke to you. Can you hear him?"

_"Yes,"_ she whispered, already not liking where the doctor was going with this.

"Is it Lucifer?"

_Detective? _It had been so very strange to hear his voice come from those lips. Like everything else, it just seemed _wrong, _two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that didn't quite go together.

Linda appeared to take her silence as a confirmation. "I want you to try and look at him. Not at his face," she said quickly, as Chloe began to protest, "but _at_ him. His chest perhaps."

Before she could stop it, her mind's eye wandered to the man stood in front of her, taking note of the many bullet holes in his shirt.

His body was heartbreakingly familiar.

"What do you see?" Linda's voice was gentle, but firm.

Chloe was breathing faster now, huge gulps of air that did nothing to help calm her. Her answer was practically a sob. "He's wearing Lucifer's suit."

One hand flew to her mouth, as if she never should have let the words slip out.

"I'd like you to look at his eyes now. Just his eyes. Nothing else."

That she could do. Those eyes weren't his. She knew that. They weren't that deep, dark brown that she swore she could see his very soul in sometimes. She'd seen those eyes filled with joy, with pain, with desire, and… concern.

She felt her heart stop.

Concern. Because despite that endless, terrifying fire held within those eyes, there was worry in there as well. Worry for her.

And she recognised it.

Her body began to shake as she started to take in the rest of the picture her mind had painted. A horrifying vision of a man, pitted and scarred, a burn victim that had never been allowed to recover. That face of nightmares, with skin the colour of blood. And underneath it all… was Lucifer.

Her Lucifer. He was the Devil. And the Devil was him.

How she ended up on the floor she had no idea. When awareness of her surroundings began to return, she found Linda beside her, rubbing comforting circles on her back. "It's okay, Chloe, it's going to be okay," she was saying, over and over again.

Was it? She didn't know. All she knew at that moment is that she was filled with an overwhelming urge to _see _him. To explain what had happened today, and to ease some of that pain in his eyes. That same pain she'd just relived, as he realised what she'd seen.

"He didn't know," she whispered.

"Chloe?" Linda's hand stopped it's circular motion, and Chloe turned towards her.

"He didn't know… what he looked like," she tried to explain.

Linda nodded solemnly. "Ah. Yes. That make sense."

She waited, but became clear the doctor wasn't going to elaborate. Rising to her feet, she gathered her things, pausing only to offer some clarification to her friend before she rushed out of the door.

"I think… I think I need to see him," she said. Linda smiled at her, pleased.

"That's good. I think that's a good decision, Chloe."

She only hoped she was right.

…

It was still early by the time she got to the club. The queue outside had yet to form, which was actually a welcome relief, to be able to walk up to the doors for once without the usual dirty looks as she, the person least dressed for the occasion, jumped the line. Not recognising the bouncer, she went to flash her badge as she approached, but before she could he gave her a nod and opened the door.

Chloe Decker's photo was still firmly on the VIP guest list, it seemed.

She hadn't taken the time to change, not wanting to give Lucifer the wrong impression. Not that she was entirely sure what impression she was _trying _to give. But, she thought with a heavy heart, teasing aside, he'd never minded what she wore anyway. For someone for whom appearances were so important, he was one of the few people she'd come across who could look past all that.

Right from the beginning, he'd always seen her, the real her, underneath.

As soon as she stepped into the darkness she was hit with the familiar wall of heat and sound that was Lux. The music was there, but the crowd wasn't, with only a dozen or so people milling around the seating areas and the bar, and a few more already on the dance floor. She didn't expect Lucifer to be down here yet. He tended to wait until he had an audience, his piano set often signalling the start of the evening.

Gathering her courage, she started to walk towards the elevator, but stopped as something on the dancefloor caught her eye.

_Lucifer._

As usual, he was in the middle of it all. She leaned against the balcony as she'd done a thousand times before, prepared to watch the Devil in his element as he moved around the room in an elaborate dance, that wove between potential partners for the evening and those seeking favours.

Tonight though, something was different. There was no exchanges, no deals to be made. Men and women alike went unnoticed, despite their obvious attempts to attract the Devil's attention. But it was pointless.

Because for him, it appeared, there was only one woman in the room tonight.

Chloe had never seen anything like her before. Her beauty outshone all around her, and Lucifer seemed spellbound. She watched as she wound herself around him, and he let her, his hands delving into her long brown hair. Something twisted in her chest when the woman kissed him. He held her tightly to him, and as they turned…

Her heart broke.

For there was Lucifer, holding on to someone else, and smiling…

Smiling the way he only ever did for her.

She turned away. She had to, she had no other choice.

She couldn't bear to watch any longer.

Pushing her way past the increasing number of patrons making their way inside, she stumbled out into the cool night air, tears stinging her eyes.

_You're overreacting, _she told herself. _She's just like all the others, nobody special, gone again in the morning. She's not you._

And yet, she kept seeing that smile. The smile that was supposed to be hers.

She was too late.

Part of her wanted to go back inside. To pull him from that woman's arms, to demand he talk to her. But she had no right. She'd lost that right weeks ago.

No, all she could do now was leave.

Leave, and leave behind any hope that they could get past this.

Any hope that one day… they might get back to where they were.

And so she did.


	3. Endings & Beginnings

Endings and Beginnings

When he woke, it was to sunlight, harsh and blinding, burning through the windows to sear through his eyelids. It was mornings like this he found himself grateful there was no such thing as a celestial hangover. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, letting the events of yesterday sink in all over again.

The tight knot in his chest was still there at the thought of it. How could he face her today, now that he knew the unequivocable truth?

She no longer trusted him.

But… wasn't that what this whole thing was supposed to be about though? _Proving _to her that she could. Showing her that the man she thought he was hadn't been a lie. Surely he could go into work as he always did and start over… yet again.

He didn't know anymore.

All he knew was that he hadn't felt this tired in centuries.

A noise from beside him pulled him from his thoughts, and a smile graced his lips. He'd forgotten he had company. Turning towards his companion, he let his eyes trace over her naked form as she slept facing away from him, the bedclothes intended to cover her long sacrificed to the floor during their night together.

The ache he felt eased as he thought about the perfect distraction for his woes that lay next to him.

It was no surprise to him the distance between them; while he sometimes found his bedmates draped over his body in a morning, it was a rare occasion he didn't move away from them in his sleep.

In fact, only once had he opened his eyes to find that he in fact had been the one to wrap himself around the person sharing his bed, and thankfully she was far too intoxicated at the time to remember exactly _why_ she'd awoken feeling "far too hot in this five star hell hole," as she'd so elegantly put it.

He'd soon gotten out of bed, after that. It wasn't worth the risk of it happening again.

His smile slipped into a lecherous grin as he eased himself across the bed, until he could feel the heat of her against his body. Brushing the hair away from her neck, he pressed his lips there, laving the bite marks he'd previously left with his tongue until he felt her stir.

She chuckled, and the sound filled him with a strangely familiar sensation. The side effect of having spent two delightful evenings with this bewitching woman, he supposed. He moaned as she ground back against him, his hands busy trailing down her side, tracing over her skin until he reached her thigh, where he lingered teasingly.

"Lucifer," she gasped, and he froze.

_No._

It couldn't be.

He'd know that voice anywhere.

Reeling, he yanked his hand away as though she'd burned him, scrambling backward across the sheets. She made a small sound of disappointment and rolled over onto her back, confirming his worst fears.

"_Eve?! _What on earth are you doing here?

She smiled, slow and seductive, before stretching, arching her body away from the mattress in a display that was in no way helping to get his blood flowing in the right direction again. Sighing with pleasure at the delicious stretch of sore muscles, she turned to him, and it took every ounce of self control he had to keep his eyes on her face and not her body.

"On Earth would be rather the point, wouldn't it, my light?" she responded, her dulcet tones and the term of endearment bringing back a flood of memories he'd rather not be thinking about right now.

This was no good. No good at all. Wasn't his life complicated enough, without _this?_

What was the Detective going to think, if she found out?

He repeated himself. "What are you doing here?"

Her eyes dropped low, and for a second he saw himself reflected in her smile. Something that made sense really, after all, the term bad influence had basically originated with him and her.

"Well, I rather thought I was doing you," she said, the words dripping off her tongue as she crawled across the bed towards him. He felt her pull, he always had, but he resisted, holding up a hand to ward her off and sliding down the bed to recover the bed sheets, pulling them back up over both of them.

He hoped in vain that it would help him to focus.

Raising an eyebrow at his actions, she propped herself up on one elbow, regarding him from across the bed. The covers slipped off her as she moved, exposing one breast.

He tried to pretend to himself that he hadn't noticed.

"I won't ask again, Eve. Why are you here?"

She didn't say a word, simply continuing to stare at him with those deep dark brown eyes of hers, a strange curiosity there within.

"Came up for a little holiday, did you? A day trip perhaps?" he jibed, pushing for an answer.

Those same eyes turned dark as her face grew stony. "Why not, that's what you did, isn't it?"

She had him there.

Before he could respond though, she flopped back onto her pillow with a sigh, her long dark hair fanning out behind her. "Honestly? I got bored."

"Adam not enough to entertain you?" he said teasingly, unable to help himself.

She shot him a look of derision. "We both know he's not."

"Still, darling, bored? You live in paradise, how can you be _bored?"_

"You got bored of Hell, didn't you?" she fired back.

"Yes, but that's-"

"The same thing, day after day. My experience might not quite be so literal as yours, _darling_, but anything is torture if it it's repeated enough."

"Not everything," he said with a smirk, before internally cursing himself.

_Why was he flirting with her?_

"Well, yes. But you were always rather inventive, weren't you?"

She was inching closer; he felt his heart rate speed up in response.

"Still am."

His voice appeared to have dropped an octave without his permission, as he fell so easily back into a rhythm that had been established between the two of them at almost the dawn of time itself.

He was seconds away from just damning it all to hell and giving in, when his eyes caught the sight of the bedside table behind, and the empty bottle of pills that sat there.

She angled her body up towards him, her lips reaching for his. Gently he placed a finger there, stopping her in her tracks before pushing her away.

"Why, Eve? Why the drugs, the pretense? Surely you knew I didn't realise who you were?"

Guilt crossed her face, and she shifted away from him, back onto her side of the bed again. "I did…" she said, carefully considering her answer. "But you seemed so lost. I wanted to take some of your pain away."

Something twisted inside him at her answer. She… cared for him. He'd started to believe he would never have that again.

"It was what you always did for me, in the garden, after all," she explained further.

It was true. They had both been lost, back then. Two souls yearning for something more, something to fill the hollowness inside. They had taken each other's pain away.

She leaned forward just enough as she could rest her hand on top of his. "And it was what you did for me in Hell, too."

His memory of finding her there in her cell was as clear as the day it happened. She wasn't the first human to arrive by any means, and she certainly wouldn't be the last. To see her in that place though… it had only served to bring back the injustice of it all.

For his Father to have created beings capable of free will, only to punish them when they acted upon it. To have created a son, filled with desire, yet condemn him when he longed for that same freedom.

For both of them, Hell had been a sentence undeserved.

And so that day, he had used his burgeoning powers to change her fate. He gave her the garden again, and all that came with it.

It wasn't perfect; after all, he wasn't _Him_, but at least it was no eternal damnation either.

And for every day thereafter, just as the flaming sword had guarded Eden, so he protected her. She was his, and every demon under his command knew it. They weren't to touch her.

For she was the one to condemn humanity. Who better suited for the Devil's sole attention than her?

"It was the least I could do."

"Yes. It was."

Resentment flashed in her eyes, but it was gone again as quickly as it came. It was a look he hadn't seen from her in millennia. He felt a sharp pang of an all too familiar guilt at the reminder that part of her still held him responsible for what she had lost. That a part of her always would.

"But I remain grateful nonetheless," she said, warmth replacing her acrimony as she smiled kindly. "What you did… I had an eternity of torment ahead and you saved me from that. Eden was a gift."

"A gift that was rightfully yours," he pointed out. "I merely returned it."

Silence fell for a moment, both of them caught up in their memories.

"So, what does Adam think about all of this?" he asked, not wanting to delve further into their long and complicated history right now. Not when there were more important things to be dealing with, like finding out why she was here.

Raising an eyebrow once more, she indicated between the two of them with her finger, a smirk on her lips as she asked a silent question.

"No!" he exclaimed hastily, suddenly feeling flustered. "I mean, you, here, on Earth."

He wondered at that, at how after all this time she could still make him feel like _she _were the sinful immortal, and he the naive human.

She laughed, and there was a bitter edge to it he hadn't expected. "Considering he was never really real, I doubt he has much objection to the idea."

His face fell. She leaned across the bed, running a hand along his jaw, her thumb tracing where his smile had been. "Do you think me blind, my light?"

A warm glow blossomed inside him at her repeated use of the moniker; he hadn't realised just how much he'd missed her referring to him that way.

Withdrawing her hand, she patted his before rising completely from the bed, her fingers tracing the walls of his bedroom as she lazily explored her surroundings. It didn't take long for him to abandon trying to avert his eyes; hers was a body not designed to be ignored.

He'd always appreciated beauty, in all its forms.

"The Adam I knew is in Heaven," she said, telling him what he already knew. "Exactly where that self-righteous fool told himself he belonged. 900 years is a long time to convince yourself of your innocence, especially when you have someone else to force to bear the burden."

Lucifer scoffed. "He and my Father are well suited."

She smiled at that.

It was one of the many things that had sustained their friendship for so long. They were kindred spirits, of a sort. He, blamed for the misdeeds of men and vilified by all, and she, responsible for fall of mankind itself.

Her cell, her Eden, had been a refuge for him in Hell, somewhere to escape the endless dark and horror that surrounded him day in day out. Never for long, and never too often, lest it arouse suspicion, but it was enough to remind himself that things hadn't always been this way.

That he hadn't always been the Devil.

It was the one thing that helped him hold onto a shred of who he was in that place.

When he started to travel to the surface, he would always bring back part of Earth for her. Books, art, even music. As he learned, so did she. It was his way of showing her, _proving_ to her, that it hadn't all been for naught. That her people may have been cast out, but that something good had come of it.

That she had nothing to feel guilty about.

It had taken millennia for her to accept it. Renounced by both her husband and her God, her beliefs were set in stone. But even stone can be eroded given time, and time was something they had an endless amount of. Eventually, she was able to forgive herself.

He envied her that.

Not that it mattered, in the end. Her fate had been sealed the moment her lips touched the apple, as had his. The gates of Heaven were locked to them both. He might have freed her from her inner torment, but there was nothing he could do to free her from the abyss.

They had both been as trapped as each other.

"I know you meant well…" she said with a sigh. "But the man you gave me he was nothing but a facsimile of a husband I grew to hate, in the end." A wicked smile graced her lips. "Fun to play with, I'll admit, but hardly a substitute for intelligent conversation."

Completing her circuit of the room, she lingered by the bedside table, fingertips tracing the spine of a book from his library, a constant companion these last few weeks on the nights when intoxication would abandon him all too quickly and sleep was to be avoided.

"I blame you for that, you know. Perhaps without you in my life, I wouldn't have tired of him so quickly, been content with a simpler existence."

"I think we both know that's not true," he replied, eyes tracking down her curves. "You would have eaten from the tree eventually, with or without my… encouragement. You were meant for knowledge, darling. He, most decidedly, was not."

She laughed as she walked away from him towards the bar, a sound as melodious as anything he'd ever played on his piano. "I always did wonder if your Father made me from a piece of his brain rather than his rib. It would certainly explain a few things."

It was his turn to laugh then, rolling out from underneath the sheets with practised ease and striding to the bathroom. One short shower later, he entered the living room, a towel around his waist, to find her browsing his library. Her dress still lay discarded upon the floor, and he set about collecting both it and his own abandoned clothing from the night before.

When he tossed the dress in her direction onto the sofa, she rolled her eyes at him and shook her head.

If she hadn't been naked, the resemblance to a certain detective would have been uncanny.

"So, you work with the police now?" she asked, picking up a manuscript and thumbing through the pages.

He lowered himself into the armchair, crossing his legs. "I'm a consultant, yes."

"Still punishing the guilty even on Earth I see," she said with amusement. "Some things never change."

He frowned at that. "I do it because I _want _to, Eve, not because He forced me to."

Placing the script back on the shelf, she moved behind him, leaning over to slide a hand from his shoulder to his chest as she spoke into his ear. "I know, my light. Since the moment I met you, you've done things on your own terms. It's one of the things I've always loved about you."

_Love. _

The word made him feel as uncomfortable now as it had back then. It had been so long since he'd actually felt worthy of love that even the idea of it chafed along his skin, leaving uneasiness in its wake. It wasn't all that long ago that he'd considered for a brief moment it might be possible, but that seemed a lifetime ago now.

Nobody could love the Devil.

"So what services do you provide them with?" she asked, retrieving another book and placing it on the coffee table before sitting down in the adjacent armchair. She crossed her legs, mirroring him.

He tensed, her question hit a little too close to home. Ever since Daniel had invited him back to the precinct for his help with an interrogation, some part of him had wondered; was that the only reason he was there? Without his ability to draw out the desires of these ne'er do wells, would she have abandoned him by now?

Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of the thought. The Detective worked with him because she wanted to, not because she had to. It had taken him a long time to realise that, and now it had become the life raft he desperately refused to let go of.

He explained the basics of that, unable to keep the note of pride from his voice when he spoke about how the Detective didn't need him, but worked with him anyway.

Eve listened intently, asking questions where appropriate, and he delighted in telling her the stories of his escapades with his favourite human. It took him back to the days when he would recall his adventures on Earth on his return to Eden, with her hanging on his every word. He'd always enjoyed an audience, and she played the part perfectly.

"So what have you been working together on lately?" she said, interest burning in her eyes.

He faltered.

To say they'd been working together recently felt like too much of a lie.

"Well, we, er… since she saw who I- we haven't really…"

"Oh." She paused, before reaching across and holding his hand sympathetically. He couldn't bring himself to pull away. "I'm sorry."

"But we'll get there," he insisted. "We're partners. We'll be working together again any day now."

That was what he kept telling himself.

"Are you sure she still wants to?"

The question hit like a punch to the stomach.

"I'm sorry… what?" he heard himself say, his voice sounding distant against the growing panic in his mind.

Eve withdrew her hand, looking troubled. "I just worry that maybe she doesn't want to work with you anymore. I don't want to see you hurt, my love."

His heartbeat thudded in his ears. Without knowing, she had just spoken every fear that had been consuming him since he set foot back in the station.

She was wrong though. She had to be.

Of course the Detective still wanted to work with him.

She chose him.

_Would she choose you now though? _

_Yes. Yes she would._

He had to believe that.

"May I borrow this?"

He blinked. The question was an intrusion, but not an unwelcome one. He clung to the distraction, using it to drag himself out of the whirlwind his thoughts had become. When he looked at her though, he knew it was without understanding.

"The book," she prompted gently, pointing at the tome that lay upon the coffee table. "It's been an age since I read anything new."

"Borrowing would imply you're coming back," he pointed out, his words still sounding strange to his own ears.

Did he want her to? He wasn't sure.

"I'd like to," she said, "if you'll have me. I do enjoy your light club."

He found himself smiling, reminded for a moment of how innocent she could be.

How innocent they both were, for a time.

Just as he was about to correct her though, he realised his mistake.

This was Eve; of course she understood.

How many of his patrons had even the slightest inkling that he'd named his home after his most treasured creation? Most believed this place, famed for its decadence and sin, to be titled for the luxuriousness its owner preferred.

But not her.

Because she knew him.

It was… nice. Having someone around that did.

He nodded. "You can return. But this… this can't happen again."

She gave him a knowing look.

"I'm serious, Eve. Things are different now. And I'm not the same person I once was."

Rising from her chair, she approached him slowly, her hips swaying. He watched helplessly, the same appeal she'd always had for him unchanging. When her knees touched his, he uncrossed his legs, allowing her to slide onto his lap.

She made no move to touch him further, her thighs resting on top of his as she straddled him. His hands settled on her hips, drawn to the feel of her silken skin.

"Those who have lived as long as we have, my light, they never truly change. At our core, we remain the same, and to believe otherwise is folly. We are who we will always be, who we were meant to be."

It was a truth he was still trying to deny, despite the evidence to the contrary. Evidence sometimes found looking back at him in the mirror, where eyes of fire reminded him of the darkness inside, the black stain upon his soul that could never be erased.

He was a monster.

When she pressed her lips to his, he didn't resist. He groaned into her mouth, his resolve weakening as he hardened against her. When her teeth caught his lower lip, the sensation, albeit slight, was enough to make him gather his strength and push her away. Eve was many things to him, but nothing on this Earth would make him bend to her.

"You should go," he said, inwardly chastising himself for how breathless he sounded.

She picked up her dress from the sofa, slipping it over her head before sitting back down to strap on the heels Lucifer had placed neatly on the floor beside it. "If you insist," she said, looking up at him from under dark eyelashes.

Certain parts of him may not have agreed, but he nodded regardless. "I do."

As she headed towards the elevator though, he called after her.

"And Eve… about Adam. I'm sorry. I just want you to be happy. It's what I've always wanted."

"I know," she said as she entered, turning back towards him. "As do I, Lehavati."

She pressed the button which would take her to the lower levels and smiled at him as the doors began to close.

"Which is exactly why I'm here."

_Lehavati._

_My flame._

She only ever called him that when… he let his hand drift up to his face, already knowing what he'd find there. The rough, scarred skin ground against his fingertips, and his hand shook as he removed it. It had happened again, without his consent.

The elevator doors snapped shut, and he blinked as the realisation hit him.

He'd been in his Devil form…

…and she'd kissed him anyway.

_She'd kissed him._

The sound of one of the many clocks that littered the shelves of the library hitting the hour shattered the silence.

His eyes widened as he counted the chimes with trepidation.

Late. He was _so_ late.

The Detective was going to be furious.

And to think he'd been hoping to go back in today as if nothing had happened.

Grabbing the pile of clothes he'd folded neatly over the sofa, he rushed into the bedroom to start getting ready. As an afterthought, he reached into his suit jacket, looking for his phone so that he could at least send his apologies.

It wasn't in there.

He swore under his breath.

No doubt he'd left it at one of the many bars he had frequented last night. Briefly, he considered tasking one of his staff to ring around the various establishments, but the thought was quickly abandoned.

He could just get a new one later.

It wasn't as if she ever called him these days anyway.

…

When he arrived at the station, the Detective's desk was empty. He felt relieved; at least he wouldn't be receiving immediate admonishment for his tardiness the second walked through the door.

No sooner had he started to make his way to his usual chair though than he felt a hand upon his back.

"Hey buddy, you're with me today," said Daniel, slapping some case files onto his chest as he crossed into his field of vision. Lucifer caught them automatically, looking between the files and the desk in front of him in confusion.

"But the Detective…"

"Chloe isn't here. She caught a case this morning and wanted to get started straight away. You weren't here, so-"

Worry twisted in his gut. The Detective could handle herself, and yet…

"She's by herself?"

Daniel merely appeared amused by his concern. "She'll be fine. Besides, you know that new guy, Peterson? He's not been assigned anything yet, so he rode with her. She doesn't need you today. I could do with the help though."

It shouldn't have stung, and yet it did, despite him having said exactly the same thing to Eve earlier. He was _proud_ that the Detective didn't need him. He _was_.

But still.

"C'mon dude. I'm working a case related to Chloe's anyway, so you'd still be helping her out regardless. I've got a ton of potential suspects to work through, and I'd really like a partner on this one."

If the case was connected to the Detective's, perhaps she would need his help later. Reluctantly, he nodded his acquiescence, gesturing towards the interview room.

"As you wish. Lead the way then, Daniel."

The rest of the day passed reasonably quickly, especially after he became bored enough that he started asking those on the other side of the table what they desired almost as soon as they sat down. Throughout the afternoon he would occasionally catch his fellow interrogator looking at him strangely, but then the next interviewee would be brought into the room and the moment would soon be forgotten.

When they'd finished, it was almost time for Daniel to relieve the babysitter currently monitoring the spawn. They were both in the break room, a well deserved, if undeservedly substandard, coffee awaiting them. A hand clapped him on his shoulder. "I gotta say, dude, it was fun working with you today! I mean, I know I called what you do a parlor trick before, but to see it in action like that…" Daniel let out a low whistle.

Lucifer couldn't help but feel a little proud. And he had to admit, it hadn't exactly been _awful _working with the detective either. They'd done it often enough now that it was bearable, although not as enjoyable as working with _his _Detective, obviously. Speaking of whom...

He looked towards her desk through the open door, relieved to see a flash of blonde there. Daniel followed his light of sight and shook his head.

"It's no wonder you and Chloe close so many cases. If you made _my _life this easy every day, I'd keep you around too!"

Daniel may as well have stabbed him in the chest. Lucifer barely heard his goodbyes as he left, unable to focus on anything other than the Detective, her hair falling over her face as she bent over the desk to examine whatever document lay there.

Had he been right all along? Was he nothing more than a tool to the Detective now? That was the reason she'd allowed him to come back to work after all, and she hadn't referred to him as her partner since… since…

No. It couldn't be that. This was just going to take time, that's all. If the Detective merely wanted to use him as a means to an end, he'd already be working with her, would he not?

_Instead, she sent you to work with Daniel, where you were needed…_

He was being preposterous. She may not trust him with her offspring anymore, but he'd given her no reason not to trust his work. He hadn't put a foot out of line since his return, and surely… surely it was about time she acknowledged that.

And perhaps, it was time to find out for certain. Gathering his courage, he rose from his seat and strode over to her.

"Detective."

She startled at the sound of his voice. "Lucifer! What are you still doing here?"

He decided to start slow, not wanting to push.

"Daniel informs me that the case we've been working on today directly impacts yours. I thought it might be prudent for me to relay our findings?"

To his amazement, she smiled. It was slightly forced, yes, but it was a smile nonetheless. It sparked a hope within him that he had sorely missed.

"No need," she said, shuffling the papers in front of her together and banging them into a neat pile. "Dan will debrief me in the morning, and until then, I've got these to keep me occupied." She put the stack of paper down to the side and picked up another.

He pulled his chair closer and sat down. If he were honest, it had been a relief to see the seat still there in its spot these last few weeks; a symbol that one day things might return to how they once were. He looked for signs of that everywhere these days.

"Perhaps I can assist?"

"Really Lucifer, it's okay," she said, even so much as glancing up from what was reading. "I got this."

Disappointment ran through him. Resigned, he braced his hands on the arms of the chair, preparing to leave.

"But-"

He froze. It was almost as if the rest of the world did too, with how long it felt like it took her to continue.

"I think it's about time we talked."

Slowly, he eased himself back down again, suddenly nervous about what she was about to say.

Was it time? Was his hard work about to pay off?

"Lucifer, I know-," she paused, taking a deep breath before meeting his eyes. "I know… that you're ready to move on. And... I think I am too."

A joy unlike any he'd ever felt rushed through his veins.

It was happening, it was _finally _happening.

All he wanted to do was reach across the desk and take her hand. But he forced himself to stay still, unsure if it would be welcome. Not yet.

Instead, he said, "Because going backwards is not good for anyone."

She smiled at the echo of her own words, and this time, it was genuine.

"Exactly. So it's settled then. We move forward. Get back to work, get on with the case."

The grin he held back was threatening to crack his face wide open. Inside, his heart was singing.

"Agreed, Detective."

"Good." She breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good. So if you and Dan-"

Everything stopped.

"You wish me to partner with Daniel?"

She seemed to barely notice his change in tone, her focus already drifting back on the paperwork in front of her as she scribbled down something in the margins. "It make sense right now. I don't need you, and Dan does."

_I don't need you._

_I don't want you._

_Maybe she doesn't want to work with you anymore._

"You don't want to work together?"

How he managed to sound so calm, he had no idea. His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, which grew tighter with every breath, an invisible hand choking the life out of him, made from her rejection.

She frowned, her annoyance at being distracted from getting back to her task by the repeated question plain. "Can we talk about this later, Lucifer? I'd like to get home at some point this evening. You and Dan haven't had any problems today, have you?"

He shook his head silently, unable to form words at that moment.

"Well, okay then. I've already started working with Peterson, so it makes sense to carry on doing that moving forward. Let's just get this case wrapped up as quickly as possible, yeah?"

He couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be over. Could it?

Forcing himself to stand, he stuffed his shaking hands in his pockets so she wouldn't see. "If that is what you desire," he said. He didn't phrase it as a question, but he meant it as one, one he hoped she'd deny.

She didn't.

One last time, he looked at her, taking in the vision he knew so well. His hard working Detective, her head buried in paperwork, the harsh light from the desk lamp still managing to somehow only illuminate her beauty.

"Goodbye, Detective," he said, wondering if she would hear the finality in his voice.

He was halfway to the stairs when she responded, the mumbled reply of somebody not really listening. Somebody who hadn't even noticed he'd already left.

"_See you tomorrow, Lucifer."_

She wouldn't.

…

The journey back to Lux was a blur. Whether he drove or flew, he had no idea, his dishevelled appearance quite possibly the result of either. It didn't matter. Nothing did anymore.

The feelings were too much. He wanted to be empty, hollow. He needed it, no, he _craved_ it.

And there was only one person he knew who could help him with that.

He stumbled through the crowd, frantic, searching, until at last he saw her. She sat in one of the many booths that lined the edges of the club, holding court amongst her many admirers. A beauty such as she drew suitors like a moth to a flame. Little did they know how she would burn them.

It wasn't just his desire that had been their undoing.

When she saw him, she rose, her supplicants forgotten in an instant. As he reached her, he collapsed, falling to his knees before her. She knelt gracefully in front of him, cupping his face in her hands in such a way that only served to further tear his heart in two, a painful reminder of the only other woman to have ever shown him such devotion.

The woman who no longer wanted him in her life.

"Make me forget," he begged, his eyes wild._ "Please."_

And so she did.

…

"He_ resigned!_"

Chloe burst through the door, waving the letter she'd found on her desk that morning in the air, barely noticing how Linda practically leapt out of her chair at the intrusion.

"Can you believe it? One case, _one _case I asked him to work with Dan on, and he does this!"

Slamming the piece of paper down on the sofa, she slumped down beside it, her head in her hands. Letting out a sound of frustration, she dragged her fingers through her hair as she looked up at Linda.

"I thought he wanted to work with me again? Hasn't that what the past few weeks have all been about?!"

Slowly, Linda got up from her chair, walking over to the office door and closing it quietly.

Chloe suddenly felt guilty. "I'm sorry, you've probably got clients, and I just barged in…"

"That's quite alright, Chloe," Linda said, taking her usual chair. "I don't have any appointments until this afternoon, I'm just here to catch up on paperwork this morning."

"No, really, I should go, I-"

"Really, it's fine. You'd be surprised how often it happens." She smiled, mostly to herself. "Or perhaps you wouldn't, actually. Why don't you start from the beginning?"

Already halfway up from the couch, Chloe hesitated, then sat down again. She picked up the letter, attempting to smooth out some of creases from where she'd balled it up in anger earlier, before leaning forward to hand it to Linda.

The doctor scanned it, but Chloe had no need to do the same anymore, the words now seared into her brain she'd read it that many times.

_Detective,_

_Given that you are no longer in need of my services, I would ask that you consider this to be my letter of resignation. A more formal notification has been provided to your superiors._

_L. Morningstar._

"More formal," Chloe scoffed. "More formal! As if it could _get _more formal than that!"

"What-"

She didn't even pause for breath.

"Nearly two years we've worked together, and this is all I get? No goodbye, no thanks for everything? Just that he thinks I don't need him anymore. Which, by the way, is ridiculous."

It was enough to make her stop for a second. Did she just admit that she still needed him? Needed him to work with her, or…?

"_Chloe," _Linda say, finally managing to get a word in edgeways. "Slow. Down. What happened exactly?"

She explained what had happened. How she knew he'd moved on. How she'd said she wanted to do the same. How he'd agreed.

How she couldn't understand how it had come to this.

"What makes you think Lucifer has moved on?"

Chloe played with the edge of her sleeve for a moment. "I went to see him, at Lux, like I said I would."

"Oh?" Interest flared in Linda's eyes, and she shifted forward a little on her seat. Chloe had to wonder how much of that interest was personal rather than professional. "And how did that go?"

"Not great." Her eyes stayed firmly fixed on the button she was now nervously picking at on her cuff. "He was with someone else."

"Did that surprise you?"

Chloe knew what she meant. Lucifer wasn't exactly known for having no one to warm his bed at night.

"No… it's just…"

She didn't know how to explain it. Didn't know how to explain just how devastating it had been to see him looking at another woman that way.

"There was something about her, that's all."

"Something that made you feel jealous?"

Chloe shook her head. No, that wasn't it. She'd been jealous over Lucifer in the past, sure, but after all they'd been through together… well.

She'd thought what they had was special.

Apparently, she'd thought wrong.

"I didn't think he'd move on so quickly," she confessed, feeling deflated.

"Chloe... " Linda gave her a small smile. "I highly doubt that's the case."

"You didn't see him with her."

"No," Linda said, "But I've seen him with you."

She didn't know what to say. There was part of her that wanted to believe that. But the realistic part, the one that hadn't forgotten what she'd witnessed in the club that night, it refused to let go of her heart, weighing it down. Either she was as special to him as Chloe herself had been, or both of them were just like all the others.

Both options were painful beyond measure.

And there was nothing the doctor could say that would change that.

It was Linda who broke the silence first.

"So what do you think caused this? Specifically I mean," she said, handing the letter back to Chloe, who couldn't stop herself from casting her eyes over it once more, before gripping it so tightly it crumpled in her hand.

"It had to have been asking him to work with Dan, I can't think of anything else. I don't understand. They've worked together before, they were working together on this case yesterday! So what's his problem all of a sudden?"

Linda paused, considering. "We've talked recently about how strained your partnership with Lucifer has become. Is it possible he may have mistaken your intention?"

She thought about their conversation, about the look on his face when she suggested he continue the investigation with Dan.

You would have thought she'd said she didn't want to work with him at all anymore.

Closing her eyes, she grimaced. Because that's _exactly_ what he thought, wasn't it?

_Don't you want to work together, Detective?_

How could she be so stupid? This was _Lucifer_. And even worse, this was Lucifer who was already on tenterhooks whenever he was around her. Of course he'd read too much into it.

She groaned, and Linda gave her a sympathetic, but knowing smile.

"I tried calling him," Chloe said, "after I found the letter. I mean, I was angry, so it probably wouldn't have helped if I _had_ been able to talk to him, but..."

She pulled out her phone from her pocket, hitting number one on the speed dial and holding the screen towards Linda to demonstrate. The answerphone kicked in immediately, Lucifer putting on his best sultry voice to invite callers to leave a message after the moan.

Chloe fought the urge to roll her eyes. That was actually one of the tamer recordings she'd heard during the course of their partnership.

"I must have dialed his number a dozen times this morning at least. He rejected every single call. And now he's turned it off."

It hurt, the reminder of when he'd done exactly the same after disappearing off to Vegas opening a wound that had never quite healed. Since then though? He either answered immediately or called her back straight away. He'd never done this.

And it worried her.

"Have you spoken to him?" she asked. Linda winced slightly, her awkwardness over how to respond to the question obvious. Chloe corrected. "Not as his therapist I mean, but as a friend. He is your friend, right?"

Linda still looked unsure.

"He is," she said carefully, "but we haven't spoken in… a while."

Chloe frowned. "You're still seeing him though?"

She could see she was making the doctor uncomfortable, but she couldn't help it, she had to know. Without really meaning to, she found herself fixing her with her hard stare, the one that tended to make even the toughest criminals talk if she was patient.

"I haven't seen or spoken with him since the day he sent me to you," Linda admitted.

That couldn't be good. "But he needs you."

"Which is exactly what I told him."

"I don't understand," Chloe said, trying to put the pieces together in her mind. "Why would he… and you said he _sent_ you to me? You never said..."

"He told me not to." Linda shook her head. "I think maybe he thought you wouldn't accept my help if you knew."

Even after everything that had happened, he was still putting her first, and to his own detriment as well. That stupid, foolish man. It was just like him to push people away when he needed them the most.

"What did he say… when you spoke to him?"

"Not much." Linda shifted her eyes to the floor. "He told me what had happened, and where I should find you."

"Where you should- He was watching me?"

"I imagine he wanted to make sure you were okay."

Images of blood stains feathers and discarded bullets flashed before her eyes. "Was _he_ okay?"

"I-" Linda hesitated, looking up at her with worry in her eyes. "I don't know. He sounded… in pain."

Silently, Chloe cursed herself. She should have known he would have gotten himself injured somehow. He would throw himself off a cliff if it meant she wouldn't get hurt. But she'd been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn't even _thought_…

"I tried texting, calling," Linda continued, "but it wasn't until a few days later that he finally responded. He said he was fine. Which by then, he would have been. Physically at least. He also said I should concentrate on your therapy from now on. I disagreed. When he didn't reply, I tried visiting him at the penthouse to talk... but the elevator was locked."

She gave Chloe a grave look, and Chloe understood what she meant perfectly. Lucifer never locked that elevator. _Never._

"Will you talk to him?" she asked.

_Somebody has to. Somebody he'll listen to._

"Chloe…" Linda sighed. "I'm _your_ therapist now. It's not my place to play mediator between you the two of you, especially when Lucifer has made it quite clear he doesn't want to talk to me."

Chloe glanced at the letter again. "I'm not asking you to play mediator. I'm just worried about him. And I know you are too."

She could see the moment Linda gave in.

"Okay. I'll try. But Chloe, if he doesn't want to see me…"

"I know," she nodded. "I know."

It was nearly time for Linda's first patient. After the doctor assured her she'd visit Lucifer as soon as she could, Chloe stepped out into the waiting room and slumped down into one of the chairs there.

Retrieving her phone, she brought up Lucifer's contact details, staring at the list of unanswered calls. She wouldn't fill his inbox full of messages again; she refused to. Not after last time. But she could call Lux…

No.

She'd done the right thing. Gotten him the help he needed, if indeed he needed it at all. If anyone could get through to him, it was Linda.

Because it was obvious he wasn't going to be speaking to her anytime soon.

She sighed. Maybe it was time for her to just put the phone away and leave it to the professionals.

And so she did.


End file.
